Cuban-American rapper uses his rhymes to unite

Pitbull says he stays humble, brushing aside the fact that all four of his albums debuted in the Top 50 on Billboard Charts and that he can’t walk three steps without being besieged by fans.

By Hailey Mac ArthurSpecial to The Sun

The rapper Pitbull performed Friday night at the Phillips Center and let writer Hailey Mac Arthur behind the scenes during his evening in Gainesville.Pitbull may wear his sunglasses at night, but he isn’t incognito.Underneath, it’s still Armando Christian Perez, 27-year-old rapper from the tough neighborhoods of Miami.Pitbull says he stays humble, brushing aside the fact that all four of his albums debuted in the Top 50 on Billboard Charts and that he can’t walk three steps without being besieged by fans.The Cuban-American artist performed Friday night at the Phillips Center for the Performing Arts. Securing his performance cost $30,000, according to Maryam Laguna, executive director of Hispanic Heritage Month, which co-sponsored the event with Student Government Productions.Tickets, free to University of Florida students, went on sale Tuesday at noon. Not two hours later, the event sold out.And by 9 p.m. Friday, all 1,750 seats of the two-tiered performance hall were filled, though it seemed no one bothered sitting back in their seats.Before the lights came on and the fans shrieked, Pitbull waited in his dressing room — no frills. His name, misspelled, was posted on standard computer paper above the door. The customary plush couches and tasseled pillows were instead portable fold-up chairs.“I like to be simple, low key,” he said. “I keep it real.”Pitbull sports a white T-shirt and jeans, joking both were purchased in the clearance section. Although he admits to splurging on his black Prada sneakers, he points out they’re a year old. Pit isn’t weighed down by gold chains or gaudy medallions. He only wears his grandmother’s ring on his left hand. “What do I need jewelry for?” he asked. “I feel like it’s just for attention. A lot of people need chains in order to show other people who they are. Not me.”Growing up in the gritty pockets of Miami, Pitbull says he didn’t have much. He rattles off stories of moving so often — from South Miami to West Miami to Little Havana and back again —that he lost count. Which is why this rapper is nicknamed Mr. 3-0-5; he’s lived the whole area code. And it’s done him well. Pitbull has made a name for himself by uniting his city’s often disconnected Latin and black youth cultures and pumping his music into the U.S. mainstream. “As much as you think you’re different,” he said, “there’s a lot more things you have in common. You eat similar foods, you dance to similar music and you have similar struggles.”Pit recalls stealing from the corner store, bouncing basketballs at the court down the street and ringing doorbells before running away. He said he watched his father deal drugs, too, trying his hand at the same.“I’m not a trouble maker,” he insists. “I was just always around trouble.”His experience gave him the character needed to make it in the cut-throat record industry, he said. Moving up the ranks alerts rivals, some disguised as friends, of the opportunity to ruin a rapper, he said.Most recently, Pit dropped his label, TVT Records, and is happy to be a free agent. TVT, one of the top independent labels in the country, filed for bankruptcy in February. The company sued the Miami label Slip-N-Slide to keep it from releasing early Pitbull songs and lost, ending up with a $4.58 million judgment it couldn’t pay. It’s a lesson learned, said Pit. And something he’ll pass on to his daughter and three sons.“I feel like I can use what’s happened to me in my life to be somebody for my kids. I can tell the truth. I can tell it like it is,” he said.Pit sits back with a red plastic cup in hand, which he promises is filled with fruit punch. It’s 10 minutes before he’s supposed to take the stage, and there are two more interviewers scratching at the door. It’s nothing new; he knows what to expect. Soon, the fans will flood the edge of the stage, and they’ll stay there.Two hours of standing in stiletto heels is overlooked when it’s for Pit. For now, he jokes with the band.He doesn’t invite groupies or hangers-on backstage. Pit isn’t persuaded to clap his hands in the Gator chomp. He’s from Miami, remember. “I’m totally left-field,” he emphasized. “I don’t fit the rapper stereotype. But I like it like that.”

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